


stay frosty royal milk tea

by peraltiagoisland



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M, Might be good, but yeah, i am so FUCKING immature, i really wanted to be fic number 2000, i speed wrote this today in the span of hours, judge for urself, so yeah!, this is how i am, this might be bad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2019-10-05 13:01:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17325485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peraltiagoisland/pseuds/peraltiagoisland
Summary: In a universe where traditional ruling systems are still widespread, Jake is deported from his homeland New York as a punishment for his father’s crimes. While his best friend Princess Gina and her fathers King Raymond Holt and King Kevin Cozner work to undo the damages of this age old law, Jake must abandon his high ranking position at home and serve under Princess Amy Santiago of Cuba as her personal attendant.





	1. the only thing that’s ever stopping me is me, hey

**Author's Note:**

> oh my god so many things to say but yeah im out of time so who cares. just quick disclaimer this is my universe so my fake rules apply! just go with it! xoxo please say good things
> 
> i named this fic after the fall out boy song.... its such a good fucking song it SLAPS so... im valid

“I can’t believe you’re leaving tomorrow,” Gina sighs as she lays down on her bed, covered in satin sheets and glistening in the moonlight. It’s Jake’s last night here at the palace, Jake’s final hurrah before he leaves for Cuba... as a personal attendant. “I can’t believe any of this even happened, it’s a load of crap." 

Jake’s father committed high treason. Yup. And how does this have anything to do with Jake, you ask? Well, apparently, there used to be this law: If any man is to commit a crime, his entire family must be punished for it. Of course, most of this law has been done away with for numerous crimes: murder, stealing, arson, murder but when you like kill a lot of people, drunk and disorderlies, whipping your dick out in public—but apparently, no one’s committed high treason in hundreds of years! In the state of New York! For some reason! So it hasn’t become a point of contention, until now.

Jake almost hates that no one has committed high treason until now. Why wouldn’t anyone? High treason sounds fun. It sounds very lit, actually. Maybe Jake would’ve committed some high treason himself if he hadn’t been working in the palace as Gina’s right hand man and personal bodyguard for most of his adult life (which wasn’t very long, he only got the job because he and Gina have been best friends forever). Maybe if he hadn’t been living in the palace, he’d be a high treasoner. Whatever that is. At the very most, he knows it runs in his genes.

Jake’s dad sold state secrets to underground secret societies in Cuba. Oh yeah, stuff that could help the country essentially invade New York. Or at least, since it’s just the underground secret societies that have the secrets, they could lead a coup into their land and take over. Which is worse because that makes New York look pathetic. And looking pathetic is probably the worst crime anyone could commit!

Anyway, that’s why he’s going to Cuba. The Royal Palace there has been ‘kind enough’ to take him in. He’s apparently going to be a personal attendant to the princess of Cuba. Cuba’s only princess, next to the numerous princes they have there. You can’t really blame Jake for not being excited about this. As Gina’s right hand man, he’s special, he practically has privileges, and he answers only to Gina. With this new princess? He’s gonna be one of many, and definitely not gonna be of a special rank or anything, and that’s just gonna suck!

“You missed a spot,” says Gina, and yeah, Jake’s painting her toenails. He usually hates it when she makes him do this, but she made him paint her nails all the time even before she became a princess.

Oh yeah. That. Gina wasn’t a princess before she was eighteen. The gay kings of New York, King Raymond Holt and King Kevin Cozner, never had children of their own. Of course, they needed a heir, one that was at least of age, and they were allowed to adopt one. It’s all completely cool and legal, and the real parents of the child (in this case, Gina’s mom, her dad ran off when she was a baby. Maybe he would’ve stayed out if he knew how amazing his daughter would grow up to be) don’t get alienated in the process.

There was a whole tv show about the process. Holt and Kevin weren’t too fond of the shindig, but their subjects, and some other people of power insisted on it. It’s not a bad show, obviously. Gina’s in it, so it’s high class entertainment for sure. Plus, Holt and Kevin ended up so fond of Gina that they were grateful for the whole thing. Everyone’s rooting for a second season of the reality hit. It’s like the Bachelor or the Bachelorette but a million times better. Holt and Kevin have been a little resistant to the idea but Gina’s sure she’ll get them to come around some day.

Obviously, right now, she doesn’t care about that.

“I didn’t miss a spot,” says Jake after checking, and Gina groans.

“I know you didn’t,” she averts her eyes. “I just wanted to make it seem like you did so there’d be some kind of plus side to you leaving,” she continues, but they both know there’s none. “Who’s going to paint my nails once you’re gone?”

“Loads of... more talented people? With actual training in giving manicures and pedicures?”

Gina snorts. She’s sitting up now. “Yeah. But none of them were trained by _me_. And now I’m not sure I even want to. Train anyone to do my nails, at least.”

This is mostly a lie. They both know Gina’s going to crack in less than a month and have people serving her hand and foot again, nail wise.

“Hey,” he says, giving her a fond smile, trying to be strong for his best friend, his... sister. Yeah. It feels right saying that. She’s his sister. And Jake loves her more than anyone else in the world. “It’s okay. I’ll probably be back before you know it. Holt’s working on getting that law revoked completely, right?”

“Of course he is,” says Gina. “He doesn’t want you to get exiled. But until he gets some of the older members of congress to sign off on that new bill he wants to pass, you’re stuck there,” Gina shrugs. “I don’t know, he said, he thinks you might mature there. Learn some stuff. Become more qualified for higher positions.”

“Higher positions?” He chuckles. “I’m Princess Gina Linetti’s right hand man, and personal bodyguard. What better position is there?”

“That’s _exactly_ what I said!”

They collapse in a fit of giggles, although they’re both careful not to mess up the work Jake’s done on Gina’s nails.

“I’m gonna miss you, Jake.”

She pulls him in for a hug, and Jake has to deal with the reality of not getting to hug his best friend in the world for... an indefinite time. “Me too,” he says, meaning it more than anything he’s said in his life.

The hug lets Jake know that she’ll fight to hell and back (as long as it’s not too inconvenient) for him to be home again.

Home can be a place. It can also be a person. And at this moment, this point in time? Home for Jake, is Gina.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Diaz!”

Jake runs over to Rosa, his best friend from his days at the Academy. They trained together, traded snide remarks about annoying people together, and they shared a couple of laughs. Rosa is one of Jake’s best friends, and he can’t believe how good it feels to see her again. Maybe this exile thing to Cuba won’t be so bad. After all, she’s the Head of Security at the Royal Palace in Cuba now, and right before his flight, Jake found out that she’d be picking him up and escorting him to the palace.

Obviously, this courtesy isn’t extended to most personal attendants starting out in the Royal Palace, but hey, what are friends for, right?

“Hey, Peralta,” Rosa’s smiling more than she usually would, which is not at all. Maybe she really is happy to see him. “It’s been a while.”

“It’s been _forever_ ,” he pulls her into a hug, and he knows she won’t punch him for it (the smile!) because truly, it’s been years. Jake only wishes he could’ve convinced Rosa to come work in New York after their days together in the Academy. Gina would’ve liked Rosa, he bets. Rosa is tough, scary, one of the strongest people he knows, both in the physical sense of the word and the emotional sense of the word, she doesn’t take anyone’s shit, and she gives it to you straight.

So scratch that, the terrifying Gina would’ve _loved_ the terrifying Rosa. In fact, he feels like the two of them never meeting is somehow a missed opportunity. Maybe when he gets out of this place, he’ll convince Rosa to take a short vacation (seriously, how time consuming is it to be Head of Security at the palace of the Royal Family in Cuba? okay, probably very time consuming. shut up. forget Jake even said anything) and let his two best friends in the world meet for the first time.

She pulls away, but she gives him more time to hug her than he had expected, so it’s chill. “Look, okay, we don’t have a lot of time. You’re not going to the palace yet.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because you already have an assignment. You have to accompany the princess to the new art history museum. It’s like, nearby this airport or something, so she tagged along with me to pick you up. She doesn’t get out much and she really wants to see the place.”

Jake groans. “An art history museum?” Those are just words he doesn’t care about put together, topics he’s never bothered trying to get into, mashed into a sentence. It’s not just an art museum, or a history museum, it’s somehow both. At the same time. Oh may god have mercy on his soul. “That’s like, three boring things.”

“I know, but she likes crap like that.”

“Is it gonna be a snooze fest? How boring is this princess lady?”

He expects Rosa to say something about the Cuban princess that’s a sick burn about how mellow she’s going to be, and of course, Jake’s not looking forward to meeting her at all, so he might as well get some mad zingers out of Rosa while he’s at it.

Instead of mad zingers, however, Rosa only scowls at him. “Shut up. Amy’s not boring. Sure, she’s into a bunch of nerdy shit, but she’s definitely not boring, and one of my best friends, so talk shit about her again and I’m kicking your ass.”

Jake scratches his head, sheepish and apologetic. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude, I just hate that I’m forced to be here.”

“I know,” Rosa nods. “It’s nice to see you anyway. Look, just give Amy a chance, alright? I think you could end up really liking her.”

Jake chuckles. “We’ll see about that,” in that same moment, he sees a drop dead gorgeous girl in the distance. She’s emerging from the restroom, which explains why she hasn’t been with Rosa this whole time. “Rosa. Who is that?”

Rosa grins, mocking Jake, whose face is telling of his emotions. “Princess Amy Santiago of Cuba.”

“Rosa, call an ambulance,” Jake rasps, barely able to breathe.

“What, what’s wrong?” Jake can clearly see her holding back a good chuckle, so he scowls, although it’s not in anger, mostly not in anger, “when you’re about to introduce someone to a really really hot someone else, you give them some warning so that they don’t die on the spot, Rosa! It’s basic courtesy! Manners! And you should know that, working for the Royal Family and all.”

Rosa’s just laughing at the way Jake’s freaking out, and Amy is admiring some statue near where they’re supposed to walk to to meet her. Thank god for that, honestly, because Jake’s going to need a minute to process this. Maybe an hour. Possibly the whole day, perhaps, even forever.

“That,” Jake exhales, “she’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen... in my entire life–“ he glances quickly at Rosa–“no offense.”

She rolls her eyes. “None taken.”

“She,” he licks his lips absentmindedly, in a non-sexual way, “she should be on magazine covers, on _every_ magazine cover–“

“She’s gotten offers.”

Jake sighs. “Of course she has. Why have I never seen her before? Like on the news or something?”

“The Santiago Royal Family likes to keep a low media profile. Besides—do you even read or watch the news?”

“No. Oh, right. Yeah... Is this why people read the news?”

“No you idiot. Anyway, stop drooling all over yourself already. We have a job to do.”

“Right, yes we do.” He turns to look at Rosa one last time. “Does my hair look okay?”

Rosa gives Jake a stern look. “You’re here to follow her around in case she wants anything—not hit on her.”

“I wasn’t going to hit on her!”

“Uh huh.”

It’s at this moment that Amy sees them and starts waving. They begin walking towards her, or well, Rosa does, and Jake follows along almost begrudgingly, Amy getting more and more beautiful the closer he gets to her. How does such a person exist? How has evolution turned up with a person so beautiful? Or was she crafted by the hands of God herself?

“Hi, I don’t believe we’ve met? I’m Princess Amy of the Santiago Royal Family.” She has the most pleasant smile etched on her face as she holds her hand out for Jake to shake.

He only has time for his heart to stop for a second before he realizes, “wow, that’s a firm handshake.”

“I took a seminar,” she shrugs, proud.

“Where? Oh wait, dumb question. They probably taught you this stuff in princess school.”

She snorts, and it’s very cute. “Princess school?”

“Do you have that here?”

“Ignore him,” Rosa interrupts, rolling her eyes. “He just got deported here for his father’s crimes. He’s being wrongfully punished.”

“It’s okay. I think I’m adjusting well. I already love being here in Cuba.”

“Well, I’m glad you do. Cuba is a beautiful place.”

“Filled with beautiful people.” He says that way too dreamily, so Rosa glares at Jake, who realizes too late, the implications of what he’s saying. “Uh, I’m, I’m assuming. I haven’t really been here that long. I mean so far, I’d say–“ Rosa pinches him–“never mind. Let’s just stick with nothing, I said nothing.”

It’s a relief Amy doesn’t say anything, even if she did notice how Jake’s completely slobbering over her.

“Anyway,” Rosa interjects. “We should get moving soon if you want to see all the exhibits. The museum’s pushing back their closing hour so that you can view their exhibits in private.”

Amy lights up in the way fairy lights dance on a Christmas tree. It’s like, with every passing second she gets more beautiful and enchanting in new special ways. Jake knows the concept of love at first sight is flawed and not in the least bit realistic but... what he’s feeling right now might be something kind of close. An intense infatuation with beauty, if you will.

 

* * *

 

“This museum was painted to look like the Sistine Chapel,” Amy explains, “it features so many works done in the style of Michelangelo,” Amy explains as they walk into the place. It’s calming, peaceful.

“It’s like having our own tour guide,” Jake jokes, and he sees Amy look down for a moment, as if blushing? “Anyway, Michelangelo sounds dope, whoever that guy was. This stuff is all super pretty.”

“Oh yeah, it is. His art is also... funny? In its own way?” She gets Jake’s attention. “If you really look at it, there’s a lot of symbolism and crude stuff that he put in, because he was really upset about his uh, _super_ cruel working conditions. By the time people found out about it, it was too late to stop what he’d done,” she explains, and it’s fascinating how she seems to be attempting to adopt his diction.

“Sounds like my kind of guy.”

“Oh yeah. I feel really bad for him, though. He had to work basically lying down most of the time in cramped spaces since he was painting ceilings. He bent over backwards and had a horrible time.”

Jake snorts. “ _Bent over backwards and had a horrible time,_ title of your sex tape,” he says instinctively, not realizing who he’s with and what he’s just said until the words leave his mouth.

“What’s that now?”

Jake gulps, and Rosa sighs, pinching her forehead with her fingers. “That’s a thing he does, uh, it’s a very stupid joke–“ Jake decides that now is not the best time to debate that–“he does it to almost everyone, it’s kind of like a ‘that’s what she said’ thing but the sexual thing is like, bad sexual.”

“Honestly Rosa, I had no idea you thought that deeply about my jokes–“

“Shut up.”

“But uh, yeah,” Jake grins at Amy in hopes of appeasing her, if, well, she is mad. Jake can’t tell. The look on her face seems almost amused, actually. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” Amy assures. Anyway, as I was saying—Michelangelo’s working conditions were horrible. The Sistine Chapel was done in fresco, which is wet plaster and paint. So, all of that was dripping into his face, eyes, and as he once lyrically described, his beard too.”

“Wait, gross gooey stuff came down all over his face, and he still kept going at it?”

“ _Gross gooey stuff came down all over his face, and he still kept going at it:_ title of _your_ sex tape.”

It takes Jake a moment to realize what Amy’s done, but when he does, his jaw drops. “Princess Amy Santiago just made a sex tape joke!” He announces to the museum, cupping his mouth with his hands even though there’s basically no one around. “Man, that was a solid one! And on your first try too, girl, you’re getting a high five.”

He raises his hand and Amy hesitantly high fives him. She’s not used to getting offers to high five, but after her hand loses contact with Jake’s, a wide smile spreads across her face, more vibrant than any rainbow.

Rosa looks on curiously. Sure, she had expected Jake to warm up to Amy, anticipated that he’d make dumb, gross jokes at the expense of the princess, but... she did not foresee Amy liking him this much. Or so it seems, at the moment.

 

* * *

 

“This is Charles, our head chef,” Rosa says, introducing the two to each other offhandedly. Charles seems like a good dude, he’s smiling and holding out his hand for a handshake and he seems excited to meet Jake, actually, for some reason. “He’s also a buddy of mine. I told him about you.” She turns to Charles now. “He’s supposed to help out as one of the servers for today’s dinner.” 

Jake’s eyes widen. “I’m a server? Like a waiter? Why?”

“Someone called in sick today, so you’re filling in. Usually, we wouldn’t put in someone as inexperienced as you in the mix, but we’re shorthanded recently, so you’re tagging in. Don’t worry, Charles will tell you what to do and everything–“

Rosa starts to walk away. “Wait, so what’ll you be doing?”

“None of your business,” she remarks without stopping.

Jake sighs, turning to Charles. “So uh... what’s up?”

“Official family dinners are thrice a week, so basically every other day. When there’s no family dinner, the members eat in their own rooms where they have their own dining tables with dining areas–“

“Woah woah woah, uh,” Jake chuckles, “slow your roll there, buddy.”

Charles seems to light up at this. “Buh, buddy?”

“Yeah!” Jake smiles. “Why not?”

Charles grins and begins explaining in a pace that better suits Jake. “Okay. So for today, we’re serving the Royal Family a five course meal. Each member of the family gets their own personal server–“

“Who am I serving?”

Charles turns around. “Charlie?”

“Yeah?” A short bearded man turns around, he’s sautéing some onions, maybe, Jake isn’t sure, he doesn’t know much about... cooking. “What’s up, man?”

“Who’s Jake serving for dinner?”

“Who the hell is Jake?”

Jake raises his hand and smiles, waving slightly, but this Charlie man doesn’t seem to care for that. “Oh. Uh. Well, I don’t know, man.”

“Then check the chart, Charlie!”

Charlie looks like he doesn’t, wouldn’t usually expect this level of hostility from Charles, making Jake feel like he’s only behaving this way for Jake’s benefit. It feels nice.

“God, dude, you know I can’t read—get Dennis to do it,” Charlie continues doing whatever it is he was doing to those onions.

“Dennis!” Charles calls, and he turns to face a man who has his back facing them, but then he drops his spatula and turns to look at them with an annoyed expression, arms akimbo.

“What?”

“We need you to check the seating chart for us, and find out who Jake is serving–“

“Who the hell is Jake?”

“Again, uh,” Jake waves, hesitantly this time. Why are the kitchen staff... terrifying? “Right here.”

“Ugh, I don’t wanna do that shit. Trick Dee into doing it.”

“I’m not doing that!” Yells a passing blonde woman, who Jake assumes is Dee. “I’m right here, you asshole. Trick Mac into doing it–“

“Uh,” voices a nearby man, who’s incredibly muscular and not visibly doing any work. “I also heard that, and I’m also not doing it, so, uh, I’m just gonna trick Frank into checking that chart when I see him.”

Charles sighs, and Jake has a feeling that he’s much too used to this treatment. He seems to have a very ineffective staff that prides themselves on tricking each other into doing their jobs instead of just. Doing them.

“Forget it, we’ll just go check it on our own,” says Charles, leading Jake out of the kitchen to a chart posted up right next to the kitchen door. In the distance, Jake seems to hear the staff inside cheering over how they managed to trick Charles again. The poor guy.

“Are they always like this?” Jake asks once they’re out of earshot of the scary people he saw.

“That’s how they’ve always been,” Charles laughs nervously. “Most of the time I’m doing all the work. He sighs. They’re all horrible in their own ways. Mac never does anything, all he cares about is getting Dennis to sneak out with him so they can–“ he gulps–“I don’t want to think about it. Charlie can’t read, Dee just drinks most of the time and burns stuff, and then Frank... he’s never around.”

“Hey, it’s okay, I’ve got your back,” Jake assures. “I’ll make sure nothing bad happens.”

Charles beams at him. “Thanks Jake,” he looks at the chart, “oh, looks like you’ll be serving Princess Amy. The one and only. She’s really nice, so don’t worry about–“ Charles notices the wide smile Jake has spread across his face–“uh oh! Looks like _someone_ has a crush–“

“I don’t have a _crush_ on Princess Amy, she just happens to be the only Santiago family member I know since I met her earlier–“

“Whatever you say...”

“Your high pitched insinuating voice is incredibly creepy,” Jake remarks, but he says it with a smile and Charles laughs.

“It is what it is, and what is, is that _you_ like the princess!”

 

* * *

 

“Amy has a huge crush on her waiter,” Louie, one half of Amy’s unbearable younger twin brothers says loudly enough for Amy to hear, and she goes red in the face. Said waiter, is Jake, and Amy may or may not have just been laughing unabashedly at something he said while clearing her plate 

What? It was funny. Go away. “What are you talking about?” she says, playing the fool.

“He said something to you and you laughed,” Luis says very matter-of-factly. They’re both grinning at her, and she hates it. Her brothers are the world’s worst tormentors.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“What are you children discussing?” asks Queen Camila from the other end of the table. Amy buries her face in her hands. She’s... not interested in having her mother hear anything about this.

“We’re debating over whether Amy is in love with her waiter because she laughed at something he said just now!” Diego, her other younger brother, who’s older than the twins but just as juvenile, shouts across the table, meant to be loud enough so that their mother, and everyone else in earshot, can hear apparently, because her brothers want her dead in a ditch from the embarrassment.

Just then, the waiters all return and Jake is next to Amy with the next course. “You’re in love with me?” Jake chuckles as he sets the plate down in front of her. “Amazing. So when’s the wedding? I’m not saying yes unless you show up with a huge rock. That means diamond. Which I’m sure you know.”

Many of Amy’s brothers laugh at this, and Amy buries her head in her hands. This is it. This is the day she dies.

“You’re right, sister. He is funny. I guess I can see why you’re in love with him.”

Amy feels very embarrassed, but she can’t do anything about her brothers teasing her. Despite the royal upbringing, her parents are pretty lenient on them. Light ribbing and teasing are generally tolerated. After all, behind the palace doors lies a normal family. Ruling may be their job, but their home life is like that of any other.

 

* * *

 

“I need your help,” Amy begs Rosa, holding on tightly to both her hands, and Rosa can tell she means serious business, because her hands are hurting, and she only brushes the pain aside because of how worried she is for Amy.

“What’s wrong, what happened?”

“I need you to help me make Jake more... docile.”

“Docile?” Rosa arches an eyebrow. “You’re making him sound like a misbehaving dog, what’s going on?”

“Nothing!” Amy insists. “It’s nothing, I swear, I just need him to be less... Jake like.”

Rosa sighs. “Before I even ask how I’m supposed to make that happen—why do you want _that?”_

“I just need him telling less jokes and being so _candid_ around... my family, especially. I laughed at something he said and now my brothers keep making fun of me, and they have this big running joke about how I’m in love with Jake!”

Rosa breaks out laughing.

“Stop laughing, it’s not funny!” Amy whines, and Rosa snorts.

“Dude, why are you even laughing at Jake’s jokes in the first place? And if you don’t want him being, well, himself, then why can’t you tell him yourself?”

Amy purses her lips, seemingly stumped by this. “Be... because. Look, please help me? You’re scary, you scare people, and you know him. You’re the best one for the job.”

Rosa crosses her arms, rolling her eyes. “Fine... but you owe me.”

“Of course.”

 

* * *

 

“She could... she could have me beheaded?!” 

Rosa nods, unblinking. “Yeah. I’m in the clear mostly because we’re best friends, but word on the street is that she’s a little upset with you. You’re on thin ice.”

Jake is shaking. Maybe this is a little cruel, but Rosa isn’t paid to be nice, she’s paid for being effective. Well, not that what she’s doing right now has anything to do with her job as Head of Security, but, well, whatever. It’s kind of funny, in a sense.

“But what did I even _do?”_

“Maybe next time don’t propose marriage to the princess... in front of the Royal Family.” Rosa says. “It’s uh, it’s unbecoming. Or something.”

Jake is terrified to the core, and Rosa shoots a text to Amy.

_it’s done. he thinks you have the power to chop his head off. feel free to mess with him, but don’t take it too far._

 

* * *

 

“Thank you, Your Majesty Of The Highest Honor,” he bows and leaves in a hurry after she dismisses him. Amy lets out the laugh she’d been holding back the entire time he addressed her. She can’t believe this situation, and she doesn’t know what Jake means half the time, but she’s having the time of her life.

Jake gets assigned to take Amy on her daily walk around the palace gardens. He seems to be shaking inwardly the whole time, and Amy decides it’s a good idea to make it feel much much worse than he’s feeling now. ”You know,” she says, and Jake freezes up. “I used to have an attendant just like you. He was so good at jokes too... but then one day, he told a bad one, and as much as I liked his past jokes... he had to go.”

Jake gulps in fear. “How did he... how did he go?”

“I won’t bore you with the details, but–“ she swipes her thumb slowly across her neckline to mimic a beheading, and Jake’s eyes go wide.

“Anyway, I doubt that’ll happen to you! You tell good jokes, don’t you, Jake?”

All in all, one of the least productive days of Amy’s life because of how long she spends torturing Jake, but it’s also one of the most fun.

That night, she’s taking a sponge bath (with the help of Kylie, one of her favorite attendants and best friends), laughing at how funny it would be... if she summoned Jake here to give her said sponge bath. He might pass out, in the fear that he’d slip up and do something to warrant a beheading.

“Are you thinking about that new attendant again?”

Amy blushes, refusing to look at Kylie. “No.”

“We all know about how you’ve been messing with him, Amy. Rosa’s given everyone a memo to make sure he knows you have the power to behead anyone for some reason? What’s going on?”

Amy might be a little embarrassed at finding this out. Of course, she’s grateful that Rosa took some precautions. Jake asking around could destroy their ploy in seconds and she’s been having a fun day. “It’s... nothing to worry about.” But perhaps, it’s getting a little too cruel, and perhaps she should drop the whole thing and tell Jake the truth.

After... one last little prank. “Hey Kylie?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you summon Jake up here for me?”

Kylie rolls her eyes. “Seriously, what are you trying to pull here? This is so unlike you.”

Amy brushes her concerns off. “It’s fine. Whatever it is you think I’m doing... it stops after tonight, I promise.”

Kylie gives her a suspicious look. “Fine. I’ll go get him. But if he’s still as terrified tomorrow, I’m telling him everything.”

“Of course,” says Amy. “It’s not like I actually have the power to behead anyone,” she laughs, because it’s almost adorable how wholeheartedly Jake believes she has such power, but really, that’s more telling of the toxicity of monarchy more than anything.

 

* * *

 

“Your Highness? Princess Amy Santiago?” Jake greets hesitantly when he walks into the room that he’s been told to enter without even knocking for some reason. He’s terrified. Petrified. Has no idea why he’s been summoned. Kylie didn’t really fill him in on the details, and his heart is pounding in his chest. What exactly is going on?

Maybe she just wants a book. Or some water. Jake doesn’t know, but he can’t tell what she wants because he can’t see her. Oh well, after all, it is a large room. He finally sees an ajar door that he hadn’t searched before and pushes it open, only to get the shock of his life.

As it turns out, this is a bathroom. And in this bathroom, there is a bathtub. And in this bathtub, sits Amy, nude, probably, covered by nothing but the water she sits in and the suds that rest upon its surface. Bubbles. Ooh, bubbles. Wait, no, not the point right now. Jake can’t care about bubbles! He’s about to die!

He covers his eyes and turns away, apologizing profusely. He tries not to think about how the image of dim lights, warm air (that’s invisible but whatever), and her bare skin (that is to die for) is now forever etched in his brain.

“There is no need to apologize,” Amy says, trying to sound as authoritative as possible whilst still assuring the man that he hasn’t done anything wrong.

“Did you...” he gulps, “did you summon me, Your Highness?”

“Call me Ma’am,” says Amy, and she nearly bursts out laughing.

“Did you summon me, Ma’am?”

She can’t believe it worked. She clears her throat. “Yes.”

He uncovers his eyes, and when he does, he spots a mirror somewhere in front of him that holds Amy in its reflection. She’s smiling. Oh, goddamn it, she’s actually grinning! Everything falls into place and suddenly all the missing pieces find themselves back into a complete puzzle—Amy’s been messing with him this whole time. At least, maybe she is. Probably, most likely.

Experimentally, he spins around to look at her, and she immediately switches her expression. Now, she looks more stern. Now, Jake is much more confident of the fact that Amy has been lying to him.

“What... what would you like me to uh, do?” He hopes he’s doing a good job of acting like he still doesn’t know he’s being messed with.

“I would like you to give me a sponge bath,” she gestures to the washcloth hanging over a rack. “You can use that.”

Jake freezes up. Okay, now, whether she’s messing with him or not, the prospect of giving Amy a sponge bath is absolutely petrifying. His entire body goes hot at the thought—the texture of her skin, how soft it would feel to touch her, how tempting it would be for his hands to roam and explore forbidden places... Her entire body should be forbidden to him, actually, but he can’t help but think about it, the thoughts flash past his mind faster than he can catch and suppress them.

“Are you disobeying a direct order from your princess?” Amy says in that stern voice, that voice she’s been using to mess with him all day, and now that Jake knows the truth... he finds it sexy, how commanding it is. He wants that commanding voice breaking down and begging him to do all sorts of raunchy things to her, but he knows, in spite of how safe he is from being beheaded, that telling her all this would be suicide.

“Of course not,” he sounds almost too confident when he says this, and he can see it’s throwing Amy off guard. “Just... tell me if I’m touching you in any places you don’t like.”

 

* * *

 

Amy... has made a mistake. 

You see, messing with Jake has been fun and all, but she never realized what the consequences of asking him to give her a sponge bath would be. Seriously, how stupid can she get?

She’s not blind, she can see that Jake is a relatively well-built man, a man... more attractive than most. He’s pretty and handsome all at the same time, and when he laughs something deep within Amy stirs and comes alive. That feeling, that feeling she gets when she’s around this man, is amplified ten times over, a hundred times over, as he runs a washcloth over her body now. She feels like she’s on fire, burning, but she can’t move at the same time, frozen, she’s almost feverish from the way he’s touching her, and every time his fingers, his hands, miss the washcloth and touch her instead... she feels a jolt of desire send through her spine.

She feels it everywhere.

“Okay, I have to, I have to say–“ he talks out of nowhere, opening a new can of anxiety worms–“I know. I saw you, smiling, or laughing, earlier, and I know you don’t actually want me beheaded. Or... I don’t think you have that power? So yeah. The jig’s up, princess.”

She almost doesn’t care. She almost doesn’t care that the jig is up, all she’s thinking about is his lips, as she stares at them, and how good they would feel wrapped around her clit, sucking hard. She ends up staring at his lips for too long, actually, because he’s starting to look at her funny.

“Princess? Amy?”

“Uh, oh, yeah. Suh–sorry, for uh, that. I was going to tell you soon anyway. And you don’t have to call me Princess. Just Amy is fine.”

“Well, maybe I like calling you princess–“ the way these words roll off his tongue has Amy jerking in place and Jake loses his grip on the wash cloth, which falls in between her legs.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I–“ without thinking, Jake reaches for the wash cloth, and Amy moans when something brushes past her inner thigh–“oh, uh.” He has the wash cloth in his hands now. But he’s realizing the error of his ways too little, too late. “Sorry about that.”

Amy has never felt more embarrassed in her life. This is, this is way worse than her brothers teasing her at the dinner table. This is ten times that, at least. Amy has also never felt more aroused in her life. She feels almost seconds away from grabbing Jake’s hand and putting it to work on her clit. But that’s insane. That’s crazy.

“It’s okay!” she says, hurriedly, somehow breathless, shifting in place as if that’ll help ease the ache between her legs. Jake makes some unidentifiable sound and suddenly looks away. “Why, what’s wrong?”

She watches him gulp, stares at his throat, at the way his Adam’s apple moves. He has a beautiful neck, and her lips are itching to latch onto it. She’s out of control. “You, you’re...”

He’s blindly gesturing, but one look down and Amy realizes (so late!! so freaking late!! how did she not know!!) how her entire bare chest is no longer submerged and she hates that Jake saw them. That’s incredibly embarrassing, well done Amy Santiago, a few days into meeting this complete stranger and you’ve already shown him your boobs!

A darker part of her hopes he caught a glance at a good angle.

Nope. This is it. She can’t take this anymore. Of course, she’s already submerged her chest back under the foamy bubbles, prompting Jake to look back at her, which is the problem. He isn’t running his hands over her body with a wash cloth anymore, he seems to be waiting for her cue on that, and Amy knows that her self control has reached it limit. She has to take care of the issue. And Jake can’t be in the room.

“You, you’re, you’re dismissed,” she says with haste, because she’s aching for her fingers to slide between her legs, and if he doesn’t leave fast, the temptation of his fingers rubbing her slick folds instead will grow stronger than she’s able to manage them.

“Look, once again, I’m so so sorry for–“

“No, it’s fine!” She puts a hand up, saying that fast again but in a voice as nice as she can muster. “You’re not in trouble, don’t worry, I can finish up on my own. Go, go back to your quarters and rest, Jake.”

“Uh, if you’re sure...”

“Yes, just go!”

He walks away quickly after that, and when she hears the door to her room open and shut, she heaves a sigh of relief and gets to work.

Hands, his hands. Those gorgeous hands that she wants holding her down, pressing her into the mattress. She wants him touching her, and she grabs at her breasts, almost mindlessly pawing at them as she rubs her clit. She moans, she lets that moan linger in the air unlike how it was cut off earlier, unlike how she strangled her own cry when he was in the room.

She imagines her fingers are his fingers, his hands are represented a bit poorly by her own, and she imagines him with that washcloth again, how it would feel if he rubbed it against where she’s touching herself now, how it would feel if earlier, he had pinned her down in this very tub and rubbed her clit until she screamed for mercy.

His hands, his hands, his hands.

She nearly screams now, but as she comes she settles for moaning his name at an acceptable volume. No one else but her would know how much she wants him to do his worst... on her.

She swallows almost shamefully after she’s had her orgasm, and it’s far more exciting and powerful than any she’s had as of late. There’s something about Jake that sets her entire body on fire... and if her body was a forest... then she wants Jake to burn it to the ground.

Almost shaking from the power of that climax, Amy gets her bearings and then climbs out the tub, rubbing herself dry with a towel. She then wraps it around herself and walks out the crime scene, only to come colliding with Jake.

Oh my god, Jake?!

“What are you doing here?!”

“Oh, uh,” there’s a cavalier smile on his face, and Jake knows if he were Amy, he’d probably hate it. “I stayed to help pick out clothes for you, because I heard that sometimes we’re supposed to help you into your clothing.” He had actually listened when Amy dismissed him at first, flustered and confused, only to return a few moments later, thinking he should at least do the bare minimum and ensure she had help if needed, wanted. 

Amy is bright red, that’s for sure. “Well yes, but I tend to get into sleepwear on my own.”

“Guess I know that now.” He gently bites his lip. “Glad I didn’t before though. Glad I came back. I heard... some beautiful things.”

Her eyes are wide open, and it’s almost funny to look at. “It, it’s not what you think, I, uh, what did you hear?”

He steps close to her and she shivers. “Relax...” his hands slide down her bare shoulders, because there’s only that one towel wrapped around her. “If anything, I’m flattered. That I had that effect on you. And you don’t have to feel bad, or, or embarrassed. If I weren’t so scared of you before, I’d have come to the thought of you every night.”

Her mouth nearly drops open. She feels that heat reignite, that ache between her legs that she thought was gone for good come back with a vengeance. She moves closer to him and feels his heat against hers. “You would?”

“Oh, I’d do that right now if I could. You have no idea, the things I’d do to you if you let me.”


	2. i think i got too many memories gettin' in the way of me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! it has been over six months since i posted the first chapter. sorry. lol! anyway, please reread ch 1. i have changed a thing or two, and maybe you have perhaps forgotten what has even happened.

Jake’s not quite sure what’s taken over him, but has a feeling it’s got almost everything to do with the absolutely ravishing Princess Amy Santiago, future ruler of the high Cuban seas (are there seas in Cuba? probably. probably.), first of her name, who’s standing before him right now.

Also, the fact that she’s clad in nothing but an easily removable towel. There’s the desire in her eyes that mirrors his own, too, the sounds of her pleasure he had overheard... it all echoes in his mind. Every moan, the way his name rolled off her tongue, the gentle sounds of water splashing. He wants to recapture all this with his hands, his touch, his kiss, and find what faces match which sound.

They’ve just been staring at each other now, tension hanging to death in the air, those shy yet overly brave words once thoughtlessly spoken now fade into the staring match they’ve got going on, and the next person to move is the both of them.

Their lips draw together like a freak force of nature, and though they paw at each other rough and relentless, strong in their desire, Amy’s lips are soft and pliant. Her face is smooth and angular and fits perfectly in his hand, and you’d think that would soothe him, but his heart is on fire, his mind is a storm, and both are doomed to never meet. Kissing Amy is like thinking he’s found the answer, to possibly everything, only to find out the question has changed, when Amy slides her fingers against his, and nudges them towards her loosening towel.

_ “Touch me,” _ she says, and some might say this is a command, others might deem this a plea, but Jake only obeys. His hand smooths over the curve of her chest, producing a gasp that has him reaching lower. He hums contently, watching her shiver in delight as his fingers dip between her thighs, where she had played so fervently before, and he touches her, slow then far too quick, and she has to stifle a scream which cracks a laugh out of him, then she’s kissing him again, occasionally biting his lip to quell her odd sound or moan but failing half the time.

“Careful,” he teases her, lips moving down from her face to her neck, taking care not to leave a mark on the esteemed princess’ neck, “don’t want the whole castle to hear you screaming my name, right?”

She’s just about to rebut this, perhaps with  _ “this is not a castle”, _ or  _ “I haven’t been screaming your name at all”, _ or  _ “Jake I don’t care who hears me you’re super hot and cute and we should go all the way”, _ but she never gets the chance.

_ BANG BANG BANG _ goes the sound at the door, and somehow they both already know who it is. However, knowing who’s on the other side of the door might not exactly matter in the slightest at this moment—common sense dictates that no one, not a soul aside from the both of them, know that they were making out within an inch of their lives. No one is allowed to know what they might’ve done after that too, had they not been so woefully interrupted.   
  


* * *

 

In the few precious seconds between those deadly sounds and those even deadlier sounds of the door opening, Amy gets moving. Like a gust of wind, she skids from against the wall to behind the bathroom door, even getting it shut. And locked! She swiftly picks up her towel too and before Jake can even blink, the scene of the crime is just... a scene.

And not a very interesting one either. Just some flustered dude from Brooklyn standing in the room of the princess. Which, to be fair! Isn’t even all that suspicious. As far as anyone might be concerned, it’s where he’s supposed to be anyway. Because of the whole getting summoned stuff. Still, none of this is credit on his part for being sneaky. Amy’s the one safely tucked behind a door right now, conveniently positioning the both of them where they’re both supposed to be. If Jake didn’t know any better, he’d say Amy’s done this before.

Then again... he hasn’t known Amy all that long, has he? All he knows for sure is that she’s sweet and kind to everyone she knows, smarter and wittier than she gets credit for, beautiful to a fault, with a body to die for. Seriously, touching her was like making himself a fire hazard. The thought of making imminent love with her made him thirst like never before. So, yeah, aside from all that Jake’s not so sure he actually knows the woman. She could be doing this all the time with a string of easily seduced attendants for all he knows. He couldn’t imagine anyone not falling easy for her. Not coming to her immediately with a wag of her finger.

God, he wants her again, and quickly. 

“Yo, Jake,” Rosa’s head pops in the room as she easily cracks open the unlocked door. It really dawns on him now how foolish and reckless he was being.

Just kidding. He’s always foolish and reckless, but then again, given that he’s just been kicked out of one country, he probably shouldn’t take his chances with this one quite just yet. “Oh, good, you’re here,” she says, like she can’t believe it (in the most monotonous Rosa way possible). And it’s understandable. Rosa had thought Kylie was pulling some big prank when she said Amy had dismissed her to send Jake in her stead. And Kylie isn’t exactly the pranking sort. Rosa looks concerned to find Jake here, but this does not actually dawn on him.

Jake breathes in, slicking his hair back, grateful that his hair is constantly in a state of mess, allowing him to fly under the radar despite how tightly Amy had grabbed on to his locks. “Yeah. I’m uh, here, for sure. Whassup? Haha... you get it.”

He’s barely functioning yet also trying to remain as if everything is totally chill, cool, and hip. Rosa makes a face at his overtly weird attempts to act normal. “I came here to get you down for dinner. Amy still need you?”

She directs her sound loud enough to address both Jake and Amy when she says this, and Jake can already feel himself getting even more nervous. It’s like Rosa knows somehow, even though she probably clearly doesn’t. Right?

“Uh, no? No! Nope, no, I’m, thank you Rosa! I don’t... I don’t need Jake’s help at the moment. I’m quite finished! With his help, I mean!”

Jake nearly snorts at that. Yeah, he wouldn’t exactly consider most of what he’s done this evening ‘help’ in the slightest. Unless Amy considers help to be his tongue down her throat and his fingers up her–

“Okay. Or I could... just send him back here after if you need anything else.”

“No need for that! I’ll be just fine, I don’t need to see anyone else tonight!”

There is this tense, nervous tone in her voice that gets Jake worried. He hears traces of regret all over her speech, and it makes him feel like kissing Amy, as pleasurable as it can be, was a forbidden mistake. Maybe Amy won’t ever want to talk to him ever again. Somehow the thought of that feels scarier than anything he can think of at the moment. It’s hard to think when all you hear is the sound of your heart drumming against your ears, like the organ’s next to his face rather than in his chest.

“Uh, okay,” he clears his throat unnecessarily, turning back to look at the locked bathroom door one last time. It’s almost pointless, she can’t see him, she can’t see him long for her, but perhaps that is for the best. He looks back at Rosa, who’s already leaving. “So, chow time?”

“Yeah,” she says, not making much of his uninspiring words of nothingness. 

 

* * *

 

“Jake! You’re here!” he smiles as Charles welcomes him to the communal staff table, patting the seat next to him for Jake to sit down.

“Fucking  _ finally–“  _ he hears one of the disgruntled staff grumble–“we’re starving to death out here.” Jake gulps as he watches five familiar people stand up angrily, cursing on their way to get their food. He remembers them as the angry, scary group of kitchen staff he had ran into his first day here.

“Oh, crap–“ Jake gestures to the table of empty plates and unused utensils–“was everyone...?”

“Yeah,” Rosa’s voice emanates from behind, she’s grabbing a plate and loading up on salad, before going for rice, meat, oh. Pretty much everything they have. “Charles has this dumb rule where no one can eat unless everyone’s here.”

“Yeah, it’s stupid as shit, Charles,” he sees one of the mean gang (that’s what he’s gonna call them in his head now) say, glowering at Charles as they do. Jake would’ve yelled at them for that if the mean gang didn’t seem... exactly what they were. He doesn’t really wanna get yelled at over dinner.

Charles laughs nervously. “Yep! That’s my... stupid rule. Rosa’s the one who enforces it though,” he says, almost as a reminder to the gang, who all know that Rosa is clearly at the top of the scary food chain that runs through this palace. They back off with uncertain grumbles, continuing to get their food.

“Yeah,” Rosa sighs, already sitting down to eat. “That’s why I had to grab Jake’s stupid ass.”

“And here I was thinking you cared about my well-being and just wanted me to get my meals on time,” he says, clutching his chest, exaggerating the betrayal he supposedly feels.

She only snorts. “Shut up. And load up on carbs.”

 

* * *

 

Rosa was right. Loading up on carbs was a fantastic idea, after the day he’s had, and he actually finds out how hungry he’s been mid-meal. It was a relief to find out that half the anxiety and nerves he had was due to just... not eating properly and not taking care of himself... at all.

But still, as he walks through the vast and vacant and probably haunted halls of the palace, he can’t help but shake this feeling that he has totally, and royally, screwed up.

Maybe he should see her just once more tonight. That wouldn’t hurt, right? He’ll go see if there’s any errand he can run so he has an excuse to find her.

He does so by stationing himself somewhat right next to Amy’s room. His plan works great, and really quickly, this young man carrying a tray of six glasses of water walks past, looking like he’s in a rush.

“Hey!” Jake half whispers, blocking the man but catching hold of his tray in the process so nothing spills. “Where ya off to?”

“Oh, I’m just delivering this to–“ but his words fall on uninterested ears, and Jake’s already taking the tray away from him.

“I’ll just take that from you, okay!” Jake gives him a wide grin. “You’re welcome,” he winks, as if the attendant had secretly begged for Jake’s help, instead of, well, whatever’s happening here.

“Thank you?” the puzzled attendant seems unsure of where to go from here. “Are you sure you’re supposed to–“

“Yeah!”

“And you know who–“

“Oh, of course,” Jake brushes it off, his hand gesture nearly causing him to drop the tray, but he stabilizes and stands properly again, chuckling nervously. “I mean, this was like,  _ supposed  _ to be my job anyway. Thanks for helpin’ out, dude!”

Confused, he walks away, and Jake heaves a sigh of relief once he rounds the corner. He knocks on Amy’s door.

“Yes?” she asks, her sweet voice rolling out, hitting him dizzy. “Come in?”

He walks in like a bumbling fool, nearly falling all over himself again when he sees her lounging in bed, her hair done up in a neat and tidy bun.

“Oh,” she looks distressed to see him, and that’s scary. “What are you–“

“I’m sorry!” he apologizes on instinct, regretting everything he’s ever done his whole life now, right up to this point, resents every action or decision that brought him here to this very situation. “I’ll leave, I know you–“

“No!” she nearly laughs, but also seems to panic just the same. “I meant,” she laughs, “I mean why do you have a tray filled with–“ her eyes give the waters a cursory glance–“six glasses of water?”

“Did you not... order these? To be like, brought to your room and stuff?” 

Amy shakes her head. “I don’t abuse my power like that,” and god, just her saying that alone makes her all that much easier to love, to fall for. “Besides, I wouldn’t order  _ six _ waters,” she grabs her phone, “it’s probably one of my stupid brothers who did this.”

“Oh,” Jake doesn’t know whether to take a step forth or a step back. “Sure you don’t want at least one glass?”

She looks up with a sort of sly smile, which feels somewhat uncharacteristic of what he knows about her thus far. “You know what? Why not. I bet it’d kill whoever ordered six glasses, only to get five.”

“Exactly,” he walks forth now, handing her a glass. “Drink up, princess.”

He never realizes the consequences of his actions until Amy begins to drink up in front of him, gulp after gulp, never breaking eye contact. Something about that drives him crazy, he’s frozen and burning up at the same time, he’s running around in the room screaming for mercy but also standing incredibly still, watching her. Not looking away either.

She licks her lips after she finishes, and Jake swears, both of them best not look down or they’re gonna have a serious problem. Jake bites his lip when he realizes he doesn’t even need to look down to realize how much of a problem he’s having.

“Thanks for the water,” she says, clearly putting on a sultry voice, glass landing back on the tray with a force he finds stupid sexy. “I had no idea I was so thirsty.”

“Well, maybe you should drink more–“ he accidentally loses balance of the tray sometime during saying that and he catches himself in time to save all but one glass, that Amy catches. As it spills down her front. “Oh crap–“ he makes a mad grab for the nearest tissue box and nearly shocks Amy in the process of handing it to her.

“I–“ she grabs the tissues from him, holding them in front of herself as if afraid he’ll touch her–“I’ll get that, thanks.”

He holds his hands up, backing off entirely. He hadn’t, he wasn’t going to, or aiming to, never planning on touching her, or helping her wipe down her front. But the way she reacted, it seemed Amy didn’t want his hands on her  _ at all, _ which clearly means that she hates him, hates his touch, doesn’t want anything to do with him from now on. This had all been a mistake, and he–

A  _ ding _ sound from Amy’s phone hacks his thoughts loose from his head. He watches as she picks it up, more clumsily than he’d usually expect her to, due in part to the tissues and the cleaning she’s been doing.

“Oh,” she remarks, reading aloud from her phone. “Diego ordered those waters,” she shakes her head with a smile. “I should’ve known. He’s always doing stupid stuff like that.”

“Right,” Jake swallows, noting how tight his throat feels, “so... I should take these to him, yeah?”

Amy nods, a note slower than would typically be normal, looking him up and down like it’s a normal glance. He doesn’t know what to make of it. He stares back at her for a moment more before he turns around and leaves.

 

* * *

 

When he walks into Diego’s room, he’s hit with the sight of the guy lying across his bed, shirt unbuttoned all the way down his chest, elbow propping his head up. As Diego catches sight of him, he reacts like he’s just been scalded—he clearly hadn’t been expecting Jake—immediately he buttons his shirt up, climbing off the bed as if caught in some devious crime.

Jake is amused by the whole display, but he’s perhaps a bit more caught by the bizarre number of flowers casually laid out in random spots in the room, and the absurd number of scented candles with conflicting flavors he has lit.

“Shit, fuck–“ Jake quietly sets the tray on the nearest table he sees, ignoring Diego for the moment–“are, where—aren’t you that attendant guy who Amy’s into?”

God, he really should’ve double-checked with that guy when he foolishly and recklessly snatched a tray of waters away from him. He’s not a fan of this situation.

“Your sister? Into me?” Jake scoffs, deciding to be real about all this. There’s something about Diego he just... trusts. “Not sure how true that is.”

Diego shrugs. “Okay, whatever. Don’t think I care about that shit right now. Why are you here and not Jehovah?”

“Jehovah?” Jake quirks an eyebrow, as if he’s not suspecting that the guy he took this tray from was definitely most probably named Jehovah. “Who’s that?”

Diego sighs, hands covering his face. “Oh my god,” he bites his lip, “okay. Let’s do a lil’ facial recognition,” he pulls out his phone and shows Jake a rather adorable selfie with Diego and the guy he saw earlier who is most definitely Jehovah. “He look familiar?"

“Oh, yeah!” Jake plays along. “Jehovah, right, I thought you meant, uh, Jeheave, he- _ voh. _ Never mind. Yeah. I know who he is.”

Diego starts to look worried. “Oh shit. This is bad.”

“Did you... specifically ask for Jehovah?” Jake probes, trying to soothe Diego’s clear insecurities whilst also trying to absolve himself of any blame. Why take the fall when you can stand up straight and lie through your teeth, right?

“Well, no,” Diego says, sounding dejected. “But I always ask for the strongest guy there to–“ he begins to look suspiciously at Jake–“wait. Are you homophobic?”

Jake shakes his head almost like his life depends on it. “Oh, no. Definitely no.” It’s pretty inconvenient and sad to be homophobic when you’re bi, so. 

“Okay... it’s just, you look kinda weirded out by all this! Just saying!”

“I’m weirded out because it’s starting to look like you order stuff to be brought to your room specifically so you can see Jehovah–“

“Yeah, and so?” Jehovah has his arms crossed defensively. “What’s it to you, punk?”

“Punk?” Jake cracks up a bit at that. “No, I just meant—why  _ six  _ glasses of  _ water?” _

Diego slumps into his chair like the answer is so obvious and that Jake is a dimwit. And well, his estimation isn’t actually that far off, and Jake knows that, but  _ hey! _ “Because–” he draws the word out slow yet impatient–”first of all, six glasses of water is super heavy, and Jehovah is the only attendant strong enough to carry it–”

“Really? Jehovah?” Jake snickers. They say love is blind, but god, Jehovah looks like your average scrawny neighborhood kid. 

“Shut up!”

Jake continues to laugh as he goes red. “I mean, no offense, but I didn’t break a sweat the whole way here.” He conivingly leaves out the part where he technically did not carry the tray of waters all the way here from the kitchen, and if he’s being honest, the tray started to weigh down on his muscles about halfway to Diego’s room from Amy’s. Perhaps Diego’s crazy plan has its merits after all.

“Stop interrupting me, dude, god, where were you raised?”

“A barn,” he says, solemnly. 

“Oh shit, I’m sorry.” 

Jake breaks out a grin and a snort. “Nah! I grew up in Brooklyn. It was mostly chill. Anyway, if you wanted Jehovah to bring something heavy, why not just get one heavy thing instead of… six sorta okay-weighted things?”

“It’s so that when he comes here, I can be like, ‘oh damn, that’s so much water dude. Wanna share?’. And I gotta make sure there’s enough water for both of us so he can stay here… longer. Plus water’s good dude. Don’t knock on water, it’s sweet as hell. Parches your thirst and all that.” 

“Wow,” Jake takes a sip from one of the glasses, then makes a face. God, that’s lukewarm water. That’s fucking disgusting. That’s the worst thing he could taste that’s not that bad but also not that good. “Never mind. I don’t get the craze.” 

Diego sighs. “Fine, fine! I’ll admit it. I only order water because anything else fancier will get me caught and scolded by mom. Also, Jehovah really fucking loves water. My sister too. I’ll never understand.” 

Jake sighs, resigned. “Me neither, buddy.” 

 

* * *

 

Jake rolls into his new room, his new official room that he’s been assigned to permanently until he… stops working here, Jake supposes. He’s not sure whether that should be sooner or later. Rosa, his longtime friend, plus Charles, his new buddy, and other friends he’s made here so far kind of make the whole place a worthwhile stay. 

Then… there’s Amy. One moment she’s the reason he would walk anywhere for, run anywhere to, next she’s the reason he wants to be on the next plane back to New York, back in the warm gay arms of his family.

At the moment, he’s not quite sure where he stands. His legs are beginning to ache though, so he sits down, watching this old man walk in. Huh. Weird. Jake doesn’t see another bed lying around in this room. He didn’t think he’d have roommates. 

“Hey… can I, help, you?”

“Are you… Jake?"

“Who, who’s asking?”

The old man instantly bursts into tears. Fuck, this is not good. Jake hesitantly stands up and makes his way to the crier standing at his doorway. “Hey… come on… don’t–”

“He’s really gone!” He continues to sob. It’s all very dramatic and sad. Boo hoo.

“Who’s really gone?”

“Hitchcock! My best friend.” 

Oh. This just took a turn down depression lane. “I’m sorry. Did he, how did he, die?”

His eyes widen like he’s seen a gollum. “Hitchcock’s dead?!”

“No! No, maybe, I mean–” he shrugs, showing his teeth–”maybe? I don’t know, you tell me! You said he’s  _ gone.” _

“Oh. I’m sorry, Jake.”

“Wait, how… how do you know my  _ name? _ And, dude, who even  _ are _ you?”

“I’m Scully.” They shake hands. Jake regrets it. “They said Hitchcock was getting fired and, and that someone called Jake would be replacing him. And that he would be staying here, so I came to look and see if it was true. And it is…”

He starts sobbing again and Jake starts patting him on his back. Oh, it’s sweaty. Never mind. Jake lifts his hand and wipes it on the wall. “Hey… there, there? It’s gonna be okay. Why did they fire Hitchcock?”

“He, they said he was harassing the princess. Hitchcock would always flirt with her and visit her. They said she didn’t like it.” 

Jake freezes at this knowledge. Well isn’t that just lovely to hear. Oh… Jake is so fucked isn’t he? Amy probably super regrets their kiss, which is why she was being weird earlier, and now she’s gonna fire his ass and he’ll be roaming the streets of Cuba, butt-naked, crying for some spare change. 

“Yo, Scully.” Just then, rather luckily and conveniently after Jake heard something scary from Scully, Rosa walks by his room, knocking on the open door, mostly to make a point. “What did I say about harassing the new guy?”

“Don’t do it?”

“Exactly. Go back.” 

Scully scampers off, and Rosa gives Jake a blank look, not apologizing for what happened nor requesting any gratitude for what she just did. 

“You okay? Settling in?”

Jake nods, slow, then faster, so Rosa won’t notice anything, which just ends up making his nod twice as weird. 

“Okay. Weirdo. Go to bed, we gotta be up early tomorrow.”

She closes the door, and he makes his way over to his bed, plopping down on it in a sweeping motion.

He stares aimless at the wall on the bed he’s not sure he likes quite much when his phone buzzes with a call. Holy crap. A call. He hasn’t gotten one in days, and as he glances at the caller, he smiles, picking up the phone.

“Hey Gina! ‘Sup girl?” 

“I’m sorry,” an unfamiliar voice rolls through the speakers. Jake frowns. “I was told to give you a call. I regret to inform you that… Gina Linetti is dead.”

“What?!” He numbs when he hears this. Oh no, no, this can’t be happening. This just, this just, it can’t be happening. Not like this. Not right now, not  _ ever _ . “Are you, are you–” he starts hyperventilating before it can make sense–”s-sure?” He’s bawling before he can even get an answer. This is the worst possible moment in time that this can happen. “Oh my god–”

Thankfully, he doesn’t start wailing before he hears a faint  _ ‘is he crying? is he crying?’ _ in the background. Goddamn it, Gina!

“SIKE! I’m not dead you–” her breath catches when she hears his tears, that he is now embarrassingly trying to stop–”oh my god. Jake, are you okay?”

“No! What the hell, Gina?” 

“Shit girl, okay, I’m sorry. I thought you wouldn’t even cry, like, we’ve done this loads of times before, remember? My grandmothers?” 

Jake sniffles. “They wouldn’t talk to you for a month after that–”

Gina starts to laugh, like its a fun party drug she gets high on. “Oh, god, yeah. Honestly, that was ideal. I love those old birds, but talking on the phone to them is the worst. Anyway… now that we’ve bonded and you’ve forgiven me for that harmless prank… what’s going on? You okay?”

“I, I made out with–”

“You made out with someone?! Oh my god, Jake, you barely got any action here! Maybe Cuba’s where you thrive.”

“No, no, I meant that, that, I could make out, uh… this monster in my bedroom! Yeah, so scary. I think it’s gone now, but I was so freaked out when you called. That’s why I was crying.”

“Jake, we’re not  _ six, _ I’m not gonna believe you saw a  _ monster _ in your goddamn bedroom.”

“Fine, I lied. But so did you! I  _ so _ got action back in New York–”

“No you didn’t–”

“No I didn’t,” he admits, resigned. 

“Just tell me what happened.”

Jake takes a deep breath. “I… made out with the Princess of Cuba.”

“You what?!”   


“I know, I know! I messed up, Gina, I messed up bad. Can you just come get me? And I’ll hide out in secret somewhere in the palace, or, or my mom’s place. Please?”

“Woah, woah, woah!” he hears a chip crunch between her teeth on the other end of the line. “What’s with the whole, bitch freak?”

“Bitch freak?”

“Did she… did the princess know she was kissing you?”

“What? Gina, of course she knew. She kissed me too, this is not, you know I wouldn’t–”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But you never  _ know, _ you know?”

Jake nods. “Yeah. Men are awful and you can never fully trust them.”

“Exactly. I taught you well.”

“That you did. Now, can you please come get me? Before I’m fired and thrown out or executed or something?”

“Executed?”

“I don’t know, I’m just, just freaking out a little. I’m pretty sure she regrets what happened. She’s been acting a little weird.”

Gina sighs, like she’s almost patronizing him and she can see things he can’t. “Fine. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, Gina. You’re the best, you know that?”

“Uh, duh! Bye girl.”

“Bye, girl.”

 

* * *

 

Rosa was right when she told him to get a good night’s sleep. By the end of the day, Jake’s run errand after errand, chore after chore, his back is sore, and he can’t wait to snore. He trudges into the shower, kicking his boots off, and turns on the water, stepping under its stream. Hot liquid rolls down his back as he moans, and yes, this is all starting to sound really sexual, but that’s just because it is. Jake really appreciates how this palace has assigned all its attendants, all its staff, pretty much anyone residing here, their own shower. Granted, there aren’t that many people living in this admittedly not gigantic place (in comparison to New York that is), but whatever it is, Jake is grateful for the kindness, and for this luxury.

Also, let’s be real here, it’s an ideal place for jerking off. There! He said it! Yeah! He’s brave enough to… have thoughts about this and not tell anyone he thinks this. 

His fingers run through his hair with soap and he scratches his scalp as he hums and sings. He gets more soap and runs that all up and down and around his body, tensing up as he reaches below his stomach, desire rising up like the steam that surrounds him. Maybe he should give into his needs for once. He realizes he hasn’t exactly had much alone time since he arrived in Cuba, aside from last night, except he passed out cold last night, after Gina hung up. 

He bites his lip, shuts his eyes, feels the water gush down over him, washing him clean as his mind gets dirty. He tries to think of something new, something sexy, something fun and imaginative for him to pump it to.

He hates that he’s already thinking about her. The thought of jerking off thinking about her, as well as him picturing her in his mind, he hates that both these things are happening. He feels guilty, in fact. But how guilty can you really be when your dick’s already hard?

Fuck it. He licks his lips, slowly stroking his erection under the running water, starting to remember, starting to reminisce. He thinks of her in that bathtub, the way drops of water would roll down her skin, the way her body curved and the way she looked standing before him, shy yet bold, biting her lip yet parting her mouth to kiss him. Her bare body, the one he wants on him so badly, the one he wants to touch, put his hands on, roam, kiss like it’s his last, he wants her. Oh god, she’d be so good. He could be so good to her. They could make it so good, together. His hand slams into the wall when the sound of her moan rings through his ears with the image of her face, what it’d look like as he slammed into her. Would she beg? Would she ride, give him head? Would she let him drive her up the wall, hold her against it? Right now, in his mind, she’s doing everything he could ever desire. 

He groans experimentally, thinking maybe this is how he’ll sound if he were with her, chasing the same pleasures. He starts to go faster and grip tighter, knowing his hand could never be hers but the thought of her, so far, is the biggest luxury he allows himself. 

“Mmm…” Close. Close. He gets, he’s getting really close now, and soon those carefully spliced together images blur and become the fastest video montage ever, and–

_ BANG! _ “YO! JAKE!”  _ Bang! Bang! Bang!  _ Shit, fuck. He’s been caught. He’s been found out. They’ve been monitoring him somehow, and he’s now been caught. The door is shut, but Jake freaks out anyway, letting his dick go, hitting it in a futile attempt to get it to go not-hard, but somehow that just makes things worse. He turns off the shower and grabs for the nearest towel and starts slowly rubbing himself to stall for time, as if Rosa can tell if he’s doing anything in there. 

“Someone’s in here!”

“Of course I know you’re in there you idiot.” She scoffs. “Get out.” 

Thankfully, his fear of Rosa gets him unbelievably flaccid at an incredibly fast rate. Sure, he’d prefer that she had walked into his room at least a minute later, so he could actually orgasm and feel… well whatever the opposite of blue balls is. Sadly, that did not happen, and now he’s a jar of beans. He throws on the clothes he brought into the shower with him, and finally, drying his hair with his towel, he walks out, nonchalant, like his hands have never touched a penis in his life. 

“Hey, Rosa. Didn’t see you there.” 

She immediately rolls her eyes. “Get dressed.”

“I am dressed–” she stares at him like he’s a fool–”wait, no. I thought we were done for today? Are we not done for today?” 

“We are, but you just got summoned to go to Amy’s room.”

He feels his entire face go stiff. “Huh! Why is that, I wonder?”

“You probably messed up today and she’s gonna yell at you?”

“Say what now?”

“Hah!” Rosa’s eyes remain largely impassive, but her mouth curls with a smile. “Nah, she likes to get to know new attendants when they come in, make sure they’re settling in right. You’ll be fine, dude.”

Somehow, Jake’s not so sure she’s right.

 

* * *

 

“Hey…” he slowly closes the door behind him, and when he looks up, he sees her look right back at him. She smiles, weakly, and her eyes glimmer in the most subtle way. Her feet dangle off the side of her bed where she’s sat, wearing a cozy-looking bathrobe, her hair falls over her shoulders in pretty waves.

My god, she’s beautiful. She’s exquisite. One of a kind. 

He likes to think that she didn’t so easily take his breath away, but his mouth is parted, so she must have. He closes it now, tightly, and then he smiles at her again. 

“Lock the door.” 

“Huh?” His heart starts to race like the hare in the beginning of the race between the hare and the tortoise. “What–uh, okay?” 

“Don’t worry, it’s just. Just in case. I have to tell you, I mean, ask something of you. And if you don’t like it you can just leave.” 

This piques his interest. Now he is scared and also fascinated. Okay, fine, he’ll be real. He’s scared and horny. What? He didn’t get to come earlier, he can’t help a  _ feeling.  _

“What is it?” He’s standing at the foot of her bed now, and when she crosses her legs he starts to feel more scared.  _ Because _ of his horniness. Now that’s a plot twist, am I right? 

“Look. I’m… I think we’re both…  _ aware _ , regarding a sequence of events that have taken place? Recently?”

He gulps. “Mmhmm, yeah, maybe, yeah.”

She looks at the floor, then the door, then the ceiling, and then quickly at him before looking at him like she’s scared. “I just… god, I don’t know–”

“Look, just say it, Ames.”

She looks up at him, surprised. Like no one has called her that before. Then she goes tender, then relaxes, rubbing her neck bashfully. “What did you just call me?”

“Oh,” maybe she wasn’t as pleasantly surprised as he thought she was. “I uh, I’m sorry, Princess.”

“No, it’s okay,” she shakes her head, “you can call me that if you want, it’s just that… no one has ever called me that.”

“I get that,” he laughs, “Amy’s short enough on it’s own, right?” Hell, Amy’s usually short for something else. Amelia, or something. Who knows. Who even cares, really. 

She stares at him again, for a moment. Transfixed. He stares back, relaxing in the moment that’s theirs. “I… want you.”

“Say what now?”

“I want you. Is that okay?” 

He blubbers for a bit, making truly horrendously stupid sounds, before he settles on “yeah,” then, after a beat, “yeah, that’s okay. It’s great.” 

She giggles a bit. 

“Want me… how?”

Her eyes, dark yet light, now darken over completely and she reaches for him, pulling him down with a kiss, and he reacts immediately, crawling onto her bed, kicking his shoes off, watching her untie her bathrobe to reveal herself, clad in lace. Good god, she summoned him here tonight to seduce him, and seduced he is. He kisses, gently yet desperate, down her neck and trailing pretty damn fast to the curves of her chest (two very sweet very nice curves if you know what he means… she doesn’t have three boobs… wait never mind that makes no sense ignore him. back to sexy stuff!). He bites playfully at the lace and she laughs, before he reaches behind to undo the damn thing. It’s beautiful, but it’s also illegal and has to go. 

“Where’d you get this?” he says, referring to her get up. “Looks nice.”

“From my drawer.”

“Oh.”

He unhooks her bra and nearly makes an embarrassing sound when he tosses it over his shoulder, admiring her, just, just admiring her. He can’t stop looking, he isn’t sure looking could ever be enough to just… absorb, take in… everything that she is and how he feels when he sees her. 

“You are… stupid-hot.” 

“Stupid? And hot?” She almost looks offended.

“Like it’s impossible–”

“Oh, like there’s just no way someone can be this hot, so... it’s  _ stupid?” _

He laughs so hard he almost forgets there’s a topless goddess lying in bed, somewhat waiting for him. “Yeah! You got it, spot on,” then he pins his face in her chest and flicks her nipple back and forth with his tongue, and her moans, the curse words that dance out her mouth, they make this all the more better. He playfully fondles her other breast with his fingers, his hand. 

“God, you’re so good at this,” she praises, and that’s very good, because he is constantly in need of validation. 

“Good? I haven’t even  _ tried _ to give you good yet,” he teases, “this part’s mostly just for me,” he says, slowly stroking up and down over the breast, watching as it moves according to his touch, his command. 

“I don’t know, I just–” she hums–”I could live on that. I could live on you doing that, for… forever. Maybe.”

“Okay, well, let’s give you something more to live on, baby.” 

He slips his hand down her underwear and she cries at his very touch, the cries getting louder as he rubs circles on her clit. She tries to stifle them into, well quiet whimpers once or twice, but there’s no helping it, really. 

“Shh, you don’t want the whole palace to hear you, right? Unless that’s a whole, uh, exhibitionist thing–”

“What?” 

“Never mind!”

“Our rooms are all soundproof, Jake.”

“Wow!” he grins at that. “Wildly convenient.” 

He grips onto the sides of her underwear, begins pulling it down, only for her eyes to seemingly widen in fear. “Wait, stop.”

“I’m sorry.” He lets go and backs off. “I’m sorry, I’ll–”

“No! I just–” she looks at him–”what were you gonna do, Jake?”

“I was,” he sticks his tongue out and wags it side to side really quickly, “you know,” and she laughs and he relaxes. “Oh. I thought you were gonna… fuck me.”

“Oh,” Jake swallows, his throat like a thousand daggers have passed through it. “Right. Okay. Sorry, but, is that… not what I was supposed to be doing?”

“I just mean,” she looks a little frustrated now, “I should’ve, I should’ve been more  _ clear–” _

“What’s going on? Amy, it’s okay. You can just tell me. Do you want to stop?”

“No!” And she’s never looked as scared as she has when she says this. 

“Then what do you want?”

“I want…” she hesitates. “I want to get off!” 

He nods, still confused. “Okay.”

“I am… not like a normal citizen. I can’t just run amok and go have fun, or, or have sex with strangers–”

“Oh… you don’t want me to fuck you because, because we’re strangers?” 

“No, I mean, yes, I mean…” she exhales. “Something like that? I guess, it’s not like I have access to birth control.”

“Oh shit, yeah, I forgot about that–”

“Plus I don’t know you, I don’t know where you’ve  _ been–” _

“Okay, starting to get slightly hurtful.”

“You know what I mean,” she says, eyes pleading, “I can’t take the risk. And I don’t know… I just. I don’t want this to become a thing. It’s not right. I can’t be your lover, Jake, you know what I mean?”

“Oh…” he finally understands now. “You just want me to get you off, but that’s it, right?” 

She taps the tips of her fingers together. “I’m sorry. You really don’t have to do it, I know how degrading you must feel to, for me to even ask this.”

“Hey, no…” he taps her shoulder comfortingly, albeit awkwardly. “No, you know what? You have a deal.”

She looks up, happy but confused. “Really? But why?” 

“Are you kidding me?” he scoffs. “Getting to touch you alone… that’s a privilege of a lifetime.” He backs up and goes in between her legs, reaching for her underwear, giving her a look, and pulling down when she nods. “Let me show you why.”

 

* * *

 

Amy walks into class the next morning, fresh, satisfied beyond belief, and ready for the day ahead. Jake made her climax… god she lost count of how many times after a bit. It’s a good thing she only has an afternoon class for today. Her teacher had to reschedule because he had a gym thing, and she’s his only student for this class, so it works. Perhaps there are perks to being from a royal family and having very very private lessons. 

“Hey Amy,” her teacher Terry greets, always so energetic, always so happy. “How’s the artwork coming along?”

She smiles. “Great! I mean, it’s nothing compared to the magic you wield, Terry, but… I think I’m improving.” She goes and grabs her painting, and hands it over.

“Nice work!” he says, enthusiastically, “brush strokes could use a little work, but–”

“Hey, is this uh… Princess Amy’s classroom?” 

Terry and Amy both turn around, and Amy gets the shock of her life to see Jake at the door. She goes pink thinking about where that face was last night, and her stomach churns at the memory. Good god,  _ what _ is he doing here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey!!!! i hope this was good, or at the very least readable lmao. its nearing 6am rn, and i have work tomorrow. please do kudos me n leave a comment :( this would make it worth it. an ask on tumblr would be nice too! but having comments on my fic make them accessible and please know that your kind words are all v important to me :-) 
> 
> have a good day loves


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